iLearn How to Forgive
by Commander Lagasse
Summary: Good news: I have a new laptop. Bad news: It does NOT have any form of word processor. This story is on official, but not permanent, HIATUS for between maybe three to five weeks. I'd apologize, but that's not my style. Love you all, hearts and puppies!
1. No Excuses

**Alright, this is my first fan fiction that doesn't have anything to do with violence as a central point of plot…or Mass Effect, for that matter. In fact, this is based mostly off of my poetry, and the kind of music I listen to; that means, since that category is grunge/that dark alternative goodness, that this is going be an EXTREMELY angst ridden story, and shit will go down! I would like to thank Dan Schneider for creating a cast of characters that had the basic outlines of the people I am going to be developing along the course of this story.**

**Since it really IS all about me making connections with my music (for me, anyways…you may take it how you like 3), my chapters are going to be named after certain songs from my favorite genres, all of which will have ironic meanings for that chapter's individual action. I HIGHLY suggest all of the tunes I list, for they all make me think about my life critically and allow me to live it even better than I already do.**

**I will not be ONLY mentioning grunge, however. Just think of it like this; the character of Michael is based off of myself, and his and Freddie's "silly time" will speak volumes to my friends, should they read this. So, whatever kind of music I like, he'll like. The only difference between me and Michael is that he gets laid…**

**I would also like to make a clarification right now…some of you may have asked, "Wait, why would he need to THANK Dan Schneider, if he IS Dan Schneider? For surely nobody but the original creator could right stories about iCarly!" Hate to break it to you, Jessica Simpson; I am NOT Dan Schneider, and I do NOT own iCarly. Any talentless schmuck can right a fan fiction, and I am about to try. If I did own iCarly, however, then it would have gone a little like this…**

Freddie stared up at the ceiling; no, staring wasn't a good description. Glaring, more than anything was a far better description. He was having a lot of trouble sleeping, lately. In fact, he found it frustratingly impossible to get anything resembling a good night's sleep in what felt like months. So much was going on in his life, it felt like he was about to explode.

He sat up, and instead glared at the wall. In the day time, he would have been able to feel loathing about the ugly beige walls. It being dark, however, he couldn't see it, so he had to settle on seething about himself on the inside. That's when he laid eyes on the pictures of his friends, hung up just inches from where he was looking.

There was only one frame up, but it was one of those electronic ones that changed pictures every set amount of time. It also had a good back light, which was dimmed at the moment so it wouldn't disturb Freddie when he slept. He was beginning to wonder if he should turn that feature off, since he wasn't getting ANY sleep as of the past few months.

He stood up, and walked slowly over to the screen. Right now, it was on a picture of the iCarly cast; Carly, of course, was in the middle, her radiant smile and long, shiny hair adding to the beauty of her face. Sam, situated to her left, was smiling joyfully as she rubbed cheeks with her best friend. Her smile was intoxicating, but he had learned how to be unfazed by it at this point. He, Freddie, was situated on Carly's right, and she had him in a bit of headlock that looked uncomfortable but he had gladly made that sacrifice to get that close to her. The picture had been taken four years ago, when they had all been in the eighth grade, and he had fallen in love with the innocence it would forever represent to him…the fact that he had still been head over heels for his favorite brunette friend just added a beautiful feeling of nostalgia for those days of naiveté again. He even still had a glow in his eyes, a spark that had kept him forever in good spirits.

He sighed as he realized he wasn't even sure he wanted to go back to those good times, being as broken as he was now…

The picture faded out slowly, and another began to replace it. This time, it was a picture of Freddie, and another guy. Not Gibby, or Spencer, but another young man who looked to be Freddie's senior by many years, but was in fact only one year over his own age; he was a man that the iCarly crew had never even been introduced to before. With a full beard, and a tank top that revealed decidedly large muscles, he seemed intimidating at first…until you saw the soft, brown eyes and the smile that spoke kindness abound. His name was Michael, Michael Youngblood.

He and Freddie were locked in a sideways embrace that looked reminiscent of the girly pictures that Sam and Carly would take for Facebook and the iCarly blog. However, they looked decidedly manly in this particular picture; Freddie, the taller yet younger looking of the pair, and Mikey, with his full beard and muscles, standing at about five foot six. They were holding their guitars, Freddie his custom Gibson Flying-V with the pearly white finish, and Mikey, his specially crafted Les Paul with the rose burst finish and the beautifully crafted mahogany neck. Both were drenched in sweat, and seemingly being led outside by two burly, sullen looking men in black.

Freddie smiled at the look on his face he had on that day more than a year ago. They had just done their first show, at a strip club they had managed to gig at having lied to the manager about their ages; using Mikey's beard and stature as proof of adulthood, as well as the owners desire to have an old time grunge group bring in customers. He didn't care enough to check for their ID. When the truth had come out, the show was already finished, and they snapped that picture as the bouncers led them out the front door. The club was shut down not a week later for criminal negligence, and the building was now a respected bar.

Thinking back to this day made Fredward's smile grow immensely, and he couldn't help but chuckle at the look of elation on his and Mikey's faces. Freddie had already been spiraling into the dark places during the time this episode had occurred, but the nights conquering had brought the spark back to his eyes; it was one of his favorite pictures for that reason alone. He watched sadly as it disappeared, and sighed as he awaited the next one.

The next picture came into view, and Freddie Benson's smile vanished instantly. For on the frame, there was the only picture of him and Sam together, without Carly.

Sam was sitting on his lap, and they were staring at each other with mile wide smiles, and fires in both of their eyes, not just hers. Their mouths were barely an inch apart.

Freddie closed his eyes in pain as the memory of six months ago came flooding back in, penetrating his mind with frightening ease. He set the frame so it paused on the picture as the memories paraded intrusively into his head.

_The day was hot, still being the summer, and it was an unusually fantastic day for Seattle's abysmal weather standards. The few clouds offered optimal shade for comfort, and though it was hot, it was not oppressively so; the day was perfect for the iCarly team to take new pictures._

_They had selected a spot in a gazebo, and had taken picture after beautiful picture of themselves, when Freddie and Sam kneeled in to look at a picture together. As they laughed and smiled, enjoying a rare moment that she would not torture him ceaselessly, they noticed Carly looking at them with a strange expression_

_"Maybe you should take a picture, Carls," Freddie laughed to her. "Yeah," Sam concurred sarcastically, "Don't they last longer?"_

_"Actually, that was my thought exactly," she smiled with a deviant smile and smug tone, and both Freddie and Sam looked taken aback. "Listen…" Carly began cautiously, "Could you two pose with each other for a picture? There isn't one of just the two of you, and I think it would be sweet…"_

_Freddie winced for a second, expecting to get pushed away from Sam when Carly asked this, maybe even with a nice, "Don't get your hopes up, Benson, you nub!"_

_He wasn't getting his hopes; he had long ago realized she would never love him._

_"Meh…I guess your right," Sam said with a shrug. "Come on, Freddork, I guess it's your lucky day."_

_Freddie stood up from their crouch rather too quickly to look comfortable. He couldn't believe she had agreed, but now was not the time to be questioning her motives. He walked over to the bench they had all posed on before and sat down nervously, wondering with apprehension about what was about to happen. Sam walked over slowly, and made to sit down beside._

_Before either knew it, though, she was on his lap, her arms around his neck and his around her waist. The spontaneity of the moment had taken over, and they both stared in to each others eyes, he into hers in shocked amazement, and she into his without fear or knowledge of consequences. Carly was wide eyed and slack jawed, completely engrossed in their moment._

_Slowly, Freddie smiled at her, and she returned it._

_Their noses touch. Their lips looked to be next, barely an inch apart…_

Fredward tries his best to keep this image in his mind.

_The flash of the camera goes off._

_Sam awakens from the stupor and looks away, removing her self from his lap…he watches her walk out of the gazebo…Carly says something, but he can't seem to recall now…so close…_

"SHIT, you're such a goddamn pussy," came a sneering, harsh voice from his window. A voice he knows far too well.

"Get out, Jessica," he says quietly, through the tears of memories and a shattered heart. "I told you, I'm done with your games."

Jessica laughed in that same, harsh voice. He turned and glared at her fiercely, and her confident expression sank away for a few moments. She regained her confidence, however and spat on his rug. "That's cute," the blonde in front of him said, "It seems you think that you've actually grown a fucking pair. Guess what, sweetie: you're still a bloody cunt, you understand me?"

He sighed and looked her up and down, feeling as much disgust for himself as he did for her. It wasn't that she was an unattractive girl, when you got down to it; large breasts, thick blonde hair, and long legs were just three attributes. But…her face looked so defeated from the drugs she pumped into herself every day, and from all the men (and women) she always bragged of sleeping with. Her breath and body reeked of marijuana, and there were fresh track marks from the needles she used to get her heroin.

She smiled, knowing he was in one of his now common self-loathing moods from his silence and she moved closer to him. "How about you forget your little…what's the bitches name? Sarah? Susan?"

She pulled the frame from him and tossed it carelessly whilst saying, "That ugly ho will never love you."

As soon as his hands were free, he clenched his fists; when she threw it aside so carelessly, Freddie lost it.

He launched his hands around Jessica's throat and slammed her into the wall across the room, his face contorted with uncontrolled rage. Shocked, she struggled for a few seconds before smiling. "Ohhh, Freddie…" she moan/choked to him, egging him on, "I love it rough…you, of all people, should know that."

He seriously, truly debated about snapping her neck right there, or choking her to death, but he knew he couldn't do it…Freddie Benson wasn't that kind of man. He let her go with a shove and said, through tears of rage and defeat, "GET OUT."

Jessica laughed at him and went out onto the fire escape where she entered from; she then turned to mock Freddie, one last time.

"How does it feel," she said softly, triumphantly, "To know the girl you love will NEVER feel the same? To know that you NEED to come back to ME, the only girl who would ever do ANYTHING with a big, blubbering puss hole like you, because you're inadequate for her care? Because all of what I just said…it's all the truth, baby cakes."

She cackled again as she beat a hasty retreat, but he knew she was right…he just couldn't make the cut. He walked over to the dresser, and put a pair of pants on over his briefs, then some socks and shoes, and was in the process of finding a shirt when he saw the picture again. He stopped and stared for a few minutes…and realized he had been about to leave. Where? Who knows; hell, who even gave a fuck? Freddie couldn't have thought that far ahead at the time.

But the picture saved him from wandering outside in the depressing Seattle winter, and he picked it up lovingly, caressing it like it was Sam herself.

He placed it on his bed, and then walked to get the Gibson acoustic out of its case. He checked the tuning, and made a quick adjustment to the flat tuning that Jerry Cantrell used to write all his songs. He struck up the tune, 'No Excuses', and began to sing…

_'It's alright,_

_There comes a time…_

_Got no patience, to search for peace of mind…'_

_Freddie belted it out, as the tears flowed like the lyrics and the chords._

_'Layin' low,_

_Wanna take it slow._

_No more hidin', or disguisin' truths I've sold.'_

The chorus built up into the single note constructed riff, and he wailed:

_'Everyday,_

_Something hits me all so cold…_

_You find me sitting by myself,_

_No Excuses that I know…'_

He kept going, not understanding why this song felt so right for him at this moment, just knowing that he couldn't stop.

_'It's OK,_

_Had a bad day._

_Hands are bruised from breaking rocks all day…_

_Drained and blue;_

_I bleed for you…_

_You think it's funny, well; you're drowning in it, too…'_

_'Everyday,_

_Something hits me all so cold…_

_You find me sitting by myself,_

_No Excuses that I know…'_

After he played the obligatory chords that sat after that chorus, he launched into the heartfelt, masterfully written solo. He wailed on it, feeling each note piercing his heart and soul, tearing into the very fiber of his being. He finished and immediately launched into the final verse, and looked at his picture with Sam.

_'Yeah, it's fine._

_Walk down the line._

_Leave our rain, a cold trade for warm sunshine._

_You, my friend,_

_I will defend._

_And if we change…well, I'll love you anyways.'_

_'Everyday,_

_Something hits me all so cold…_

_You find me sitting by myself,_

_No Excuses that I know…'_

The song ended on the quietly strummed verse chords. Freddie tried to continue with his musical vigil, but found he did not have the heart to do so.

Without an excuse to call his own, he simply stared at the happy picture and sighed, finally passing out some time around two in the morning, picture and guitar still in hand…


	2. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**Oh, something I forgot to mention last chapter: I do not own Alice in Chains, or the song No Excuses, which was off their third EP, Jar of Flies, released in 1994. This chapter is named after one of the most influential songs that has ever been written; seriously, if you don't know Smells Like Teen Spirit, or don't own a copy of Nirvana's 1991 album Nevermind, do yourself a favor and go and buy it. You won't regret it!**

The morning came much too quickly for Michael's liking. He raised his tired head, and tried to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes.

_'Not working,'_ he thought, annoyed. He rolled out of bed, and walked nonchalantly across the filthy, tiny living space he had set aside for himself in the large apartment. There was a guitar stand in the corner, which held his acoustic Gibson guitar, which was the same model as his best friend, Freddie's; only his was jet black, and Fredward preferred the ruby red.

He glanced at his dresser beside the crummy bed he slept on and yawned loudly before reaching for it and pulling it open. His wardrobe was beyond limited; he had plain black tank tops, navy blue and regular Lee jeans, and an assortment of multi-colored plaid, button-up long sleeves. He usually only wore the tank tops, but Seattle winters were NOT to be fucked with; he had learned that the hard way not three years ago. He placed on a pair of the navy blues, socks and his old work boots, and then got up and stretched.

Yawning, he crossed the fifteen foot walk from his bed to the bathroom, and brushed his teeth well; he wasn't going to shower, because he had to extort hot water from the guy he rented this shit-hole from…again. He spat, rinsed, and then walked out to finish up dressing. He examined the atrociously large beard he was now sporting, having not shaved for the better part of two months, and walked back to the dresser.

He threw on a tank top, his thickest plaid top, and prepped up his acoustic for travel; he and Freddie were going to have an unplugged jam today, and finish writing the final song for their acoustic EP. Freddie didn't KNOW they were going to finish up the album today, but Mike wanted to fluster his friend a little; have some fun with him. Plus, this EP was a breakthrough, since they hadn't had any major publicity since their live debut more than a year ago.

Mike smiled as he worked. Those were some great memories, and they were even better since he had gotten to share them with his best friend in the world. He just wished that Freddie's love life could go as well as that show, as well as the more than fifty others that they had gone on to do since then.

Shaking his head, Michael finished his preparations for the long haul, and added the finishing touches to his own person; his leather gloves, the big goofy wool hat, and last but not least, his late old man's huge hunting knife. A man had to be prepared for any person who might attack…or in case of grizzly bears.

"Rest in peace, pops," he muttered quietly as he connected the sheath to the specially made suspenders he had for carrying things, and snapped up the buttons of the plaid long sleeve. Lifting up the guitar, he walked to the door and was in the middle of locking it up when his landlord shuffled up to him, a sneer on his ugly old rat face.

"Rent," he demanded rudely, and held out his hand.

"You'll get your damn rent when my hot water gets turned back on," Mike replied coolly.

"I could just evict you, ya cock sucking leech."

"I could just call the cops about that illegal gambling ring you're running, you ugly ass mother fucker."

His landlord looked taken aback, so Mike smiled in an infuriatingly smug fashion. "Thought so," he said mockingly, and walked down the hall, then down the stairs, and finally out of the door. He thought about mentioning the meth lab he was fairly certain was in the attic, but decided not to lay all the cards on the table yet.

Snow covered the dingy streets of his hood, and he walked down it without a care in the world. He gave a friendly wave to the local gang-bangers, who promptly gave him a warm greeting of encouraging shouts and whistles.

It was a three mile walk to Freddie's, but he didn't much care; time to think up new lyrics, hell, maybe even a new idea for a song. All he had to do to make it through the snow and miles of sleet and angry drivers was immerse himself in his own little world…

* * *

"SAM!"

The blonde was startled out of her slumber by Carly's loud scream.

"Huh, wha…?" was all that Sam could manage as she raised her head off the bed, feeling disoriented.

"We have to go and meet Freddie at Groovy Smoothie," Carly reminded her exasperatedly. "He promised free food, and that he was going to tell us an important secret."

Sam sighed and sat up, still trying to gather her bearings. She was…on Carly's bed. That's right, she was spending this week with her best friend, seeing as how her mother was spending that week with her latest hubby, out some place in Hawaii that a band wrote a sappy song about. She didn't much care that her mom left without her; what she did mind was the fact that she had left her daughter with only twenty dollars for the week (plus the weekend), so Sam had to crawl to the Shay's to survive. Carly and Spencer had, of course, been more than generous with their offer of a place of care.

Carly was ready to go, so Sam just got up, threw on a pair of jeans, and a long sleeve shirt that did nothing for her figure. She was yanking on a good pair of socks when Carly said, "Wait, aren't you gonna shower first?"

Sam shook her head. "Naw, we're just going to hear Freddork spill his guts about something dorky and then he'll get me a smoothie, so why bother?"

"Well, you should try to look nice…you never know who we could meet there," Carly said with a sigh, as she walked Sam out the door. They went down the stairs, and Sam instantly went for the kitchen. Carly groaned as she heard her best friend open up the refrigerator and begin to shuffle through it.

Sam moved her hand to the ham and started eating nervously. Carly couldn't understand her worries…or maybe she could? They'd talk about it on the way down to the Groovy Smoothie. All Sam could think about now, though…was Freddie. She hadn't been able to get him out of her head since their special moment six months ago. She hadn't known what was coming over her, and as she sat on Freddie's lap, she had felt the heat of the moment take control.

And then Carly had to snap the goddamn picture…and Sam had gotten scared. More than scared…terrified. She still recalled the emotions welling up inside of her as she had walked, hard and fast, away from what felt like her one and only chance at happiness…

_The sun is bright; the sky, blue and cheery, and what sparse clouds are in the sky are fluffy, white and quintessential flawless-day stereotypes._

_Perfect…it had felt like this day was meant for her to finally make something happen for herself._

_Now, it just felt like whatever higher order of being controlling the universe was just trying to mock her._

_Sam felt furious…at Carly, who simply HAD to snap that picture right then and there, and interrupt a moment that should have been special to only Sam and Freddie…a moment that should have bound them together for the rest of their lives. Instead, all that they ended up having was a stupid, goddamn picture of a moment she wanted to relive every day for the rest of time._

_She felt her rage turn to Freddie, the stupid nub…why did he have to be so distant now? Around two and a half years ago, he had changed; it had been so sudden, so unexpected…so unwelcome. He stopped fighting back when she teased him, choosing to stay silent and take it without more than a hurt expression. The fire in his eyes had…simply disappeared. Sam would cry herself to sleep, thinking about the passion that those eyes used to hold, and how now they only looked hopeless…like he'd just rather have it all end._

_She hated the world, so, so much right now. Everything had lined up perfectly so that she could make that desperately needed change…and then, just like that, it had been stolen. He, Freddie, had been stolen._

_Sam hadn't realized that she had started to run, but she decided she didn't want to be anywhere near Carly or Freddie at the moment. She stopped when she reached her house, and ran straight up the stairs to her room. She flung herself onto her bed, after slamming and locking her door, and wept for what felt like an eternity._

_It was then that Sam finally said out loud what she knew in her heart was the truth. She knew she wouldn't believe it if she didn't say it aloud, so she stared at her reflection in the mirror and said, "No, Sam. This isn't Carly's fault…or the world's fault. It most certainly isn't Freddie's…"_

_She sighed, and looked at the ground for a few seconds. Sam knew that the only pair of eyes looking back at her would be her own when she looked up, but it was far more painful to admit this to herself than anyone could have possibly realize._

_"The only person you can blame here…is yourself, Sam Puckett…"_

_Sam Puckett…_

"SAM PUCKETT!"

Sam jumped a foot in the air and came out of her day dream; in Carly's kitchen, and half a ham in her mouth. Her best friend was staring at her, concern and confusion written all over her face.

"I'm ready," Sam said quickly, "Let's go."

She tried to rush up ahead, but Carly kept up with her. Damn her long legs.

"Sam…what the hell was that just now?" Carly demanded; it wasn't spoken in a mean fashion, but with the concern of a true friend. Sam decided that her best friend had the right to know…hell, why not? She might even be able to help.

"Carls…I have something I need to say," Sam sighed, resigned to her path of admittance, and looked straight into her best friend's eyes. "I think I'm in love."

Both girls stepped onto the elevator as Carly gasped in delight, and asked, in a very vivacious manner, "With whom?"

"Freddork…" Sam said gently, staring at the floor as the elevator doors closed tight.

She tried not to look at Carly, whom Sam new was staring at her in astonishment. She couldn't blame her best friend.

"Sam," Carly said after a minute of silence, "Are you…sure?"

Sam looked at her with a frown and hissed, "What kind of question is that? Why would I say something unless I wasn't sure? When have I EVER said anything like that unless I was sure?"

Carly looked at her best friend for a second with a slightly hurt expression upon her face; Sam instantly regretted snapping at her. "Sorry," she mumbled quietly, as she scowled at her feet.

"It's fine…I just can't believe that you…love Freddie," Carly said in a slightly hushed voice.

"Yeah…me neither," Sam replied, and then found herself smiling weakly, her cheeks feeling a little red. Carly grinned at the small blush her best friend had developed, and said, "I never imagined you as much of a flirt, but all these years…you've been the flirtiest girl in the world, Samantha Puckett!"

"Shut up, skank," she replied as she failed miserably to stop her grinning. Carly giggled as the elevator doors opened, revealing two men talking to each other. One was Lewbert, and he looked livid; the other was a shorter man with a lumberjack beard, a guitar sitting at his feet…

* * *

**(Tie the first parts of conversation in with when Sam and Carly prepare to leave/are heading down the elevator…)**

Michael walked straight up to the building that his best friend called home, and stared up to the level that contained Freddie's apartment. This was not the usual way he got up there; in fact, he had only once before used the elevator. He always preferred the fire escape, since it was a lot more fun. However, today was not a day for tomfoolery, so he knew he had to break tradition and use the tiny death-box that essentially was EVERY elevator.

Still, Michael felt uneasy. A main reason he had never taken the main route was the fact that he wanted to avoid Carly and Sam; they had never met before, and that was exactly how Michael wanted to keep it. He had a…talent…for getting girls into bed with him, and, since he didn't believe he could hold a successful relationship, he ended up breaking a lot of hearts. He didn't want to risk that with two of Freddie's best friends, so he stayed away from them; plus, Freddie had admitted to Mike that he was crazy about Sam, and made him promise he would never say anything. He had promised…grudgingly, since he wanted to make his best bro happy.

He sucked in a breath and walked inside, feeling a lot less confident than his cocky expression implied. The building was nice and warm, so Michael removed his hat and placed his guitar case down lovingly. He started to remove his plaid long sleeve shirt, when the unpleasant doorman with the most unfortunately placed mole Mike had ever seen walked over to him, a most disconcerting look written on his face. He decided not to reveal his concealed weapon…just yet, anyways.

"You," Lewbert said, in a most displeased tone.

"Me," Michael said pleasantly, with a huge, obviously exaggerated grin on his face. Lewbert bristled with anger.

"What are you doing here, asshole?"

Mike frowned at him, not at all enjoying the tone this guy was using. 'ME? I'm the asshole?' he thought to himself; instead of saying that, however, he decided to push Lewbert's buttons a little. Just then, the elevator doors opened, and two girls walked out. One was a blonde who looked to be just over five feet, and the other was a brunette who was pushing five foot six, or seven. Both were pretty and walked by just as Mike started his joke.

"I'm looking for a nice, professional walk-in clinic where I could learn about malignant melanoma of the face," he said smoothly, "And I figured I'd ask the expert."

Lewbert's jaw dropped and his eyes bulged, as Mike continued to smile his impeccable, completely impertinent grin. The two girls stopped dead in their tracks, and stared at the two men with looks of both shock and glee over Mike's statement.

Lewbert spluttered out, "You-you-"

Michael interrupted by pointing at him with his right hand and putting his left on his hip as he said, "YOU seriously need to get that thing checked out, dude. I hear cancer is a bitch."

The girls tried not to laugh, and failed horribly. He was quite pleased that he had an audience now, but was beginning to grow bored over the easy pickings that the unfortunate doorman presented.

"You…you…" Lewbert wheezed once more, quite unable to process his words efficiently. To this, Mikey looked quickly around one shoulder and then quickly around the next before twirling his hand around in a circle and pointing at himself, making a mockingly surprised face.

"Who, me?" he finished, using a high, squeaky voice. The girls exchanged delighted looks as he continued to watch as Lewbert struggled for the right words, before finally rolling his eyes and saying, "Look, just leave me alone when I come in here, ok? As much as I love destroying your life, your face just kind of pisses me off. So back. The fuck. OFF."

He spoke the last words as a threat, and he advanced on Lewbert slightly, glaring fiercely at him. Intimidated, the doorman stepped back from the short but obviously better conditioned man before him. The girls looked impressed by this; there was something so familiar about them…

"You think you're such a bad ass 'cause you have your little fuck buddy upstairs? You and the fag can't gang up on me this time, you coward," Lewbert said, far more loudly than he needed to; the girls, thinking the fun had been done and had started walking away, turned around excitedly to watch the entertainment continue.

Having thought the same, Michael had to turn to face Lewbert again. He then said, in a level voice, "Fredward isn't here right now, though. So maybe you can enlighten me about how that makes me a coward?"

The girls exchanged puzzled looks as Lewbert continued to struggle for something to say, so Mikey decided to enlighten the girls upon the only other encounter with Lewbert he had.

"Alright," Mikey said to the girls with a clap of the hands, "Whilst he blubbers about like an idiot. Anyways, me and my boy Freddie Benson- you know him?"

He was looking at their shocked faces, and all he got was the strangest feeling that he knew them from somewhere once again.

"Well," the blonde one spoke up first, "We're good friends with Freddork."

"He's the tech producer for our online show," the brunette finished explaining, and all of a sudden it all made sense to him. The brunette was Carly Shay, and the blonde was Sam Puckett. He had finally been forced to meet the iCarly gang…not by Freddie, but by that mean old bitch called fate.

"Well then," he said slowly, "Let me tell you a story about Fredward that will leave you both speechless. Well, about two years ago, Freddie and I were treated very rudely by Lewbert here."

He waved a nonchalant hand at the doorman, who glared at them with annoyance. He then took a deep breath, as if he were about to tell a long story; then, he finished his story very quickly.

"Then, me and Freddie insulted him like you just saw me do, and left without another action taken against him."

"You little lying fuck!" Lewbert screamed in rage and frustration. "You two were the ones who set my rose bushes on fire, I know it!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Lewbert. Freddie and I were here on the night in question, just as the official investigation agreed," Mikey said smoothly, and Carly and Sam felt their jaws drop. They couldn't believe what they had just heard.

"Come on, Freddie's upstairs," Mikey muttered to them, and walked to the elevator.

"Wait a second," Sam said suspiciously, "We were supposed to meet him at Groovy Smoothie, and he was going to buy me refreshments and say something important."

"He hasn't answered his phone yet, which means he isn't awake yet," Michael explained. He knew Freddie did that, so he hefted his guitar to a more comfortable position in his hand and walked onto the elevator, holding it open for them. "Come on, we'll serenade you! My name is Michael, by the way. Michael Youngblood. Pleased to meet you!"


	3. Killer Is Me

**I do not own 'Killer Is Me,' another AiC song, which was performed live, Unplugged. I also do not own the songs 'Hey Hey Baby' by Big Bill Broonzy, or the Eric Clapton cover entitled simply 'Hey Hey.' I HIGHLY recommend them to anyone who loves the blues, however.**

**So this is my second chapter named after an AiC song…and it may easily end up being the most important name in the entire fiction. It's going to be very, very subtle, though. You will see as the story continues…if you choose to continue reading as I write. Just sayin'.**

The ride up had been…fascinating, to say the very least. Michael was not really accustomed to talking to pretty women with such respect and friendliness; usually, the only reason that women talked to him was when they wanted a fuck-and-chuck. He had never been in a stable relationship, mostly because the women he had known for most of his life and been scummy people. His mother, for example. In the end, it made it so he could only hav in depth conversations with males; he had never gotten the chance to talk about his antics and interests with a female, so it was amazingly refreshing. They, in turn, had never encountered a more...interesting...character.

"So what you're saying," Carly said, shocked, "Is that it not only WAS you and Freddie who set his bushes on fire…it was Fredward's idea?"

"Impressive," Sam said, and she meant it; she had never expected Freddie to be so bold. She had always found his dorky innocence rather on the adorable side (though back then she was LOATHE to admit it), but she had to admit to herself that the fact that he had a rebellious spirit struck her as more than just cute; she found it down right sexy.

"Oh, you have NO idea," Mike said with a slick smile, and the girls laughed. He led the way and knocked on the door. Freddie's mother opened the door, and a huge grin exploded onto her face.

"Michael!" she said happily, and brought him in for a big, smothering hug.

"Marissa," he said pleasantly, and returned the embrace.

Carly and Sam felt shocked. All that either of them had ever received from Mrs. Benson was hostility and disregard, and here was Michael being embraced as if he were her own son. When she turned to face the girls, however, her eyes widened in surprise; then, they narrowed suspiciously.

"I was not aware that you had been introduced to the ladies," she said in place of a greeting; Michael frowned at her as he said, "We only just met…you could be a little friendlier, Marissa."

Marissa shrugged and let them all inside the nice apartment. "Freddie is in his room, probably passed out still…I think he had a girl over last night, so that may explain it."

Michael stopped and looked at her with a huge silly expression. Sam felt her guts do a nose dive, and it must have shown on her face; Carly was looking at her in a troubled manner as Michael said, in an obviously exaggerated high pitched school-girl voice, "Deets. Right now!"

"All I know is what I heard," Marissa grinned. "I guess it could have gone real good or real bad, from the way I heard it."

"How so?" Sam asked in a curious, but very much cautious tone. Her voice was quiet, but Marissa didn't notice. Carly and Mike did, however, and watched Sam as Marissa said to her, "There was a lot of excited screaming, and even more commotion. It ended with a great big bang."

Marissa let out a laugh, which Michael shared with her; still, he looked at Sam…knowingly? She didn't really care at the moment.

Her mind was filled with jealousy and hate for this unknown woman, as well as hurt and betrayal from Freddie. How many other secrets had he been keeping from her and Carly? Sam tuned out the rest of the conversation at that point.

"Awww widdle Fweddie may have gotten his cherry popped at last!" Michael exclaimed in a sing-song mocking tone. Marissa grimaced and muttered, "Please don't say it like that. He's still my son, I hope you realize, and his….sex life," she shuddered a little at the thought, "Is something I do NOT want to know about." And with that, she beat a hasty retreat into the kitchen.

Michael immediately walked over to Freddie's room, so Carly punched Sam lightly out of her moody vigil (Sam promptly returned a blow of her own), feeling apprehensive about what, or who, they may find. As Michael opened the door, the girls couldn't help but gasp at what they saw.

Long gone were the days of Fredward the Nerdy, it seemed; he had a guitar wrack on a wall, which held four of the instruments, and a punching bag was hooked up in the corner. There were vinyl records strewn across an old vinyl player, but there were some albums that were very much new and hip. The wall over his bed was dominated by posters of bands and individuals; Sam recognized a lot of them, including Mike McCready from Pearl Jam, as well as Kurt Cobain, Krist Novoselic, and Dave Grohl of Nirvana. There were also a myriad of bands she only knew from reputation, such as Alice in Chains and Soundgarden. The ones that threw her off, though, was a John Denver poster next to a large one of Ke$ha that seemed to be autographed.

The wall across from Freddie's bed was uncovered except for a hook that was meant to hold a picture, which was conspicuously missing.

All these observations were taken in within a ten second span before Sam and Carly saw their closest male compatriot lying on his bed, still fast asleep.

"Wow, Freddie," Carly said, in an exasperated tone of voice. Sam didn't understand her annoyed choice of words, since the dork had obviously been working out for the past few years. He was tall and lanky, but he was cut and toned as well; not burly, like Michael, but still very good looking…for a nub. He had been playing hockey for the high school, and it had obviously done wonders for him. She thought it strange that he had all his clothes and even his shoes on without a shirt. The window was open as well, but the heating system in the house kept the cold air at bay, it seemed.

Michael walked over and removed what looked like a small picture frame from Fredward's hand that wasn't clutching his guitar. He frowned at it for a second before smiling deviously and letting out a small laugh. "Awww, look at what we have here," he said, in a mocking tone before throwing it down on the bed, facing the girls. Both froze immediately and stared in amazement at the photo.

It was the one that Sam and Freddie had taken together. Suddenly, the blonde felt extremely hot around the collar, despite the fact that she had gone pale. She made a lunge for the photo, but Carly did the same; both crashed into each other and began to wrestle, on top of a now awake and very startled Fredward.

Michael cackled evilly as the two girls wrestled each other for control of the picture and Freddie did his best to simply stay alive. After minutes of confused fighting, it was the later who eventually gained control of the photo, holding it high above his head and looking straight at Michael with the most priceless expression ever brought to a man's face.

"What…" Freddie panted, "The…FUCK!"

"Nice to see you too, Fredward," Michael replied pleasantly, as his best friend looked from the women to his left and right. Sam and Carly panted furiously as he got up and quickly set it back to its original settings. He hung it up as the photo of himself and Sam disappeared to be replaced by one of his and Michael's entire band. He turned back and marveled at the three people together in his room.

Carly and Sam were staring at Freddie, whilst Michael brought the chair he sat on from out of the closet and sat down on it. "Come on," the shorter man said impatiently, "I want to finish up the last song for the EP!"

". . . .since when are you three friends!"

"Since, like, twenty minutes ago," Michael said in an exasperated tone, as if Freddie should have known this by now.

"EP?" Carly asked, obviously confused. "It's shorter than an average album, but longer than a single in playtime," Sam specified. She then finished by saying to Freddie in a soft voice, "So your band has an EP coming out?"

"Yup," was the only reply Freddie said, and looked at her with his kind eyes. He grinned a little, but his eyes didn't give off the glow anymore; thus, the smile looked more than a little forced. He was about to continue, but the one word he had spokeen was the only one he could manage before Michael interrupted again.

"Come onnnnnn," he whined, "I wanna finish the goddamn song…and then actually give it a name!"

"Uhhh…."

"Freddie…"

"I…kinda….you know…forgot how to play it," Freddie finished, not looking at his best pal. Michael felt his jaw drop. "But you wrote, you dick!"

Sam smiled jubilantly as Freddie mentally squirmed where he stood; she may love him, but she still loved to watch him squirm. Carly slapped her forehead to show her contempt for his forgetfulness.

"Hey, it sucked anyways! I did us a favor! Hell, I didn't even have lyrics for it!"

"Then what had you been singing when you were playing it for Gibby, Natasha and me!"

"I bullshitted it!" Freddie finally admitted. Michael smacked himself on the face as the girls began to laugh hysterically at the admission.

"You bullshitted it."

"Yup," Freddie answered. "I just…sorta…syllabilized it."

"Is that even a word?" Carly asked curiously.

"Yes," Freddie responded, while Michael said at the exact same time, "No."

The two stared each other down with ridiculously serious expressions. Neither men offered an explanation to the conflicting points of views, however; they just continued talking about the EP.

"So…do you think it's ready?" Michael asked, sounding a little nervous for the first time. It seemed that the sudden prospect of their first album being completed frightened him into losing his cool facade. "Not yet," Freddie answered, and Michael breathed a sigh of relief to know that Freddie agreed it was missing something.

"I think we should put that cover of Killer Is Me at the end. Since it kind of is an EP about how we met…it seems fitting that the representative beginning is the end," Fredward explained, a smile on his lips.

The girls looked at their friend curiously as Michael nodded with a smile of his own and said, "Yeah, it seems oddly appropriate."

"Hey, we were promised a performance," Carly reminded Michael excitedly, wanting to hear them in action. Michael and Freddie exchanged glances before Fredward lifted his guitar off the ground and took a seat at the foot of his bed. Sam looked at him, feeling hurt. Did he really feel that ashamed of having been caught sleeping with that picture that he couldn't even sit near them? She didn't show it, but the thought that he was ashamed of being alone in that picture with her tore her up inside.

"Alright…" Freddie said softly, contemplating what to play. And as he began to brain storm, staring into Michael's eyes thoughtfully, he began to play one of the smoothest, most bluesy guitar riffs Sam or Carly had ever heard. Their eyes widened in shock as they listened to the way Freddie moved from note to note, not paying any attention to what his fingers where doing.

He stopped when he saw Mike's face sink a little. "Not feeling 'Hey Hey'?" he asked with a disappointed look. Michael shook his head, and said, "Why not just play the end of our EP? Give them an idea of what we're like."

"Alright, sounds good," Freddie said with a smile, and finally looked at his two female counterparts. They still looked like two deer in the headlights of a truck. He chuckled at them.

"This one…is the Killer Is Me," he said, and Michael started up the main chord progression; slowly, broodingly, it crawled forward. Freddie came in with the lead line, and Mike began to sing, Freddie adding his own voice every other line.

_'Don't need a gun,_

_Pointed at me._

_No need to run,_

_Killer Is Me._

_Killer Is Me…'_

The girls stared at the two, amazed by the chemistry of their voices and the guitars in unison. Fredward and Michael, on the other hand, stared at each other intensely as they brooded through the song, the jovial and light hearted attitudes replaced by a dark, somber tone.

_'So the sun_

_Shines upon me._

_I'm havin' fun._

_Killer Is Me._

_Insane the mind._

_In the name of me._

_Can't find the time_

_To let things be._

_Insane the mind._

_In the name of me._

_Can't find the time_

_To let things be._

_Let things be…'_

It continued to ebb with it's almost sea sick chord progression, until they hit the chorus that changed the chords, but not the tone in the least.

_'Oh…yeah,_

_I start over._

_Oh…yeah,_

_I start over…and get over it…'_

Straight back into the verse they went, not missing a beat.

_'So the sun_

_Shines upon me._

_I'm havin' fun._

_Killer Is Me._

_Killer Is Me…_

_Killer Is Me…'_

_'Oh…yeah,_

_I start over._

_Oh…yeah,_

_I start over…and get over it…'_

They ended the song with the final lyric. Carly burst out into applause, so Michael took her hand sarcastically and kissed it lightly; Sam, meanwhile, stared at Freddie, who, knowing her gaze was on him, had his eyes staring straight down at his shoes. "Wow, Benson," she said, with an incredulous smile on her mouth, "Since when did you stop being such an annoying nub, and started being this decidedly talented nub?"

"Was that a compliment that I just heard," Freddie stated more than asked, and his smile made it clear that he was far too proud of himself at the moment. As good as that was, Sam wasn't ready to forgive the fact that there was a girl over last night. Plus, she never decided that she liked a band after hearing only one song…especially when that one song was a cover.

"Ha! I just wish I knew who taught you how to play guitar, 'cause obviously they're a miracle worker to have taught a stupid nub like you," she cackled nastily, hitting him on the arm. Freddie winced at the statement far more than the blow; still, he said nothing in his own defense. Sam felt herself grow frustrated by the fact that he wouldn't put up a fight. What had happened to the Freddie of years ago?

"Well, how about we celebrate with a smoothie! Freddie's treat!" Michael exclaimed jovially, much to the chagrin of Mr. Benson. "Sounds good to me," Sam agreed, and they all walked out of the room.

Freddie had his hand on the door knob when Carly shot him a strange look. "Are you pulling a Gibson today?" She asked with a smile, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Yup," Freddie said absently, and ran back to his room. He opened up the drawer and pulled out a grey long sleeve. Then he noticed a gleam that he had completely forgotten about; he gasped and pulled the butterfly knife out of the drawer, flinging it open gracefully, then closing it back up. He pulled out the second one and ran back out to show Michael.

"Look what I found!" Fredward said in a sing-song voice, and began to flip them open skillfully. Carly and Sam felt their jaws drop. Michael frowned and shook his head disapprovingly, before stating, "Found your second butter knife, I see. When are you going to realize that they can't hold a candle to MINE."

He then pulled his own knife out, and Carly's face went pale; the huge Bowie knife had an Army insignia on its hilt. He twirled it around once, just as Marissa Benson walked into the room to find her son and Michael, twirling their knives around carelessly for the girls.

**DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN...not really, but whatever. Hope you enjoyed, next one is getting worked on as we speak. Not sure when it will be done, being a senior in high school is kicking my ass at the moment so this story could take a long time...ah well! Have fun with what you've got for now, I guess. Or flame it. Whatever you want, I guess.**


	4. An Author's Quick Interruption

**Alright…I felt I needed to say this. I hope that I am not ruining the story with this decidedly large note-chapter…thing…, but I really do need to warn you all that this story is rated M for MATURE for a goddamn reason. Some of the things that will come up in the chapters will be…immensely disturbing to some viewers. When I say that they will be disturbing…I mean I am actually frightened to write them. They hit very close to home for me, because I know quite a few people who have been traumatized by this subject. If I mess up, I'm going to feel like I have committed a SERIOUS wrong to said friends.**

**The subject in question is the physical, mental, and sexual abuse of children.**

**There will be other themes that will be highly controversial, as well; the negative effects of racism on society, drug and alcohol abuse, the value of one man's life over that of another's, and the horror that is rape.**

**I want you all to realize that, as I write, I am not making judgments against anyone who may be unfortunate enough to be going through one of these situations in their own life. I wanted you all to know that I am simply trying to portray the fact that, in every situation, there is always more than one victim, and that each one of us is responsible for such horrors being able to occur against any living creature. The only way we can prevent such horrible atrocities from being committed against people in our lives and without is if we arm ourselves with the knowledge that holding on to hatred and anger, or trying to get even, will only bury us deeper in the shadow of the valley of death.**

**We have to persevere. We need to rise above those that have already sunk to the level of abuse, neglect and indifference. This task is not a simple one…nor is it a hardship that should be undertaken by a single person alone. Please, if you read this story, or just this note, and you are having troubles…just talk to someone. I have seen what loneliness does to men, and women…it's not a fate that I wish upon anyone; especially if you are having problems like the ones that I described above.**

**Still, despite the fact that I am going to paint an INCREDIBLY bleak picture, the main point of this fanfic is not the PAIN that comes with abuse as a child…it's about getting better, and learning how to heal from the horrors inflicted upon the party. I sincerely hope that I can get that point across to you all…because in the end, I guess I'm really fucking naïve. I guess, in the end…people will read this tale and try to make some kind of difference.**


	5. Outshined

**First and foremost, I'd like to give a shout-out to The Earl of Sandwich, as well as iCarlyAngst. It was their stories and talent that gave me the courage to simply exclaim on day, "Fuck it, just put this up and go crazy." If you don't know either of them, or their deviously amazing stories, then (*ASSUMING DIRECT CONTROL*) stop reading this right now and go read EVERYTHING BY THEM, god damn it! And thank you to everyone else who has reviewed, I hope to keep pleasing you all! If I don't, well then, fuck me and my endless ability to disappoint.**

**NOW FOR THE EVER PRESENT DISCLAIMERS! I do not own iCarly, as stated in the first chapter. I do not own Outshined, which was written by Soungarden and comes off their third album Badmotorfinger (1991). Jesus Christ Pose is a more kick ass song, but Outshined is a better fit for the chapter, I believe. I also do not own the Beatles.**

Marissa simply stared at the two young men as they continued to play with their knives, disgust dripping from the frown which she now wore. Carly had sucked in her breath, nervously awaiting the expected freak out; Sam, on the other hand, had a look of glee for the same exact reason.

"What have I told you about those damn things," she grumbled to the men. Freddie glanced at her, and then closed his eyes as he continued to play with the knives. Marissa's face grew pale as he began to laugh at her fear.

"Fine! If you want to chop your fingers off, by all means, continue this idiocy!"

Both girls felt their jaws hit the floor at this statement from the former Mighty Mom; the jaw dropping thing seemed to be a reoccurring theme this morning. Michael stopped and laughed at her good-naturedly. "Come now, Marissa," he said with a sly grin, "At least we aren't playing with guns."

"We could, if you'd prefer," Freddie snickered, eyes still closed as he gave the knives some more fancy flourishes. Marissa bristled, and retorted, "You two aren't man enough to carry anything but air soft guns."

"Yo!" both Freddie and Mike exclaimed, ceasing their show boating to put their hands up in protest.

"We're hardcore mother fuckers!" Michael exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from his lips as he struck a gangsta pose. "Yeah, we be OGs!" Freddie backed him up, and gave his mother both middle fingers, his tongue sticking out playfully. The girls laughed at the idiotic bravado being displayed by the two as Marissa rolled her eyes.

"Anyways," Freddie continued, in a more serious tone, "We're going to the Groovy Smoothie, so we'll be gone for a little while. I'll text you, ok?"

Marissa sighed as she watched them make for the door, replacing their knives back to their proper places. "Just be careful, Fredward. I love you…"

She sounded sad…distraught, like he was leaving her for good. Freddie looked back, and smiled kindly at his mother. "I love you too, mom," he said, but his eyes still lacked that old fire. They still looked defeated…almost dead. She couldn't take it; she shut the kitchen door quickly so that she wouldn't have to think about it, choosing instead to chuckle sadly at the conversation of just a minute before.

Freddie closed the door as Sam said, in a sarcastically childish tone, "I wuv you, mummy!"

Freddie rolled his eyes, and grinned a half hearted grin as she cackled. The four moved onto the elevator together. Michael was frowning at her forbiddingly when she walked in, but only Freddie noticed. Freddie gave his best friend the look. It spoke very clearly about Freddie's wishes: "Don't say anything; this is normal teasing from her."

Michael nodded in acknowledgement. The two of them were practically brothers at the same time that they were best friends, and it made them immensely protective of each other. Michael defended Freddie with an unwavering fierceness; partly because they had been through a lot together, but also because Mike didn't open up to anyone else BUT Freddie. He was an incredibly private person, and most people found his shell far too thick for it to be worth peeling apart the layers. Freddie was his only emotional outlet…other than the girls he would sleep with. That caused him more grief in the end, though, no matter what he would claim.

Freddie had met him at a time when his shell had been down…well, it had been down for Freddie, at least, who himself had been facing the most difficult moment of his life. That had been three years ago…that had been when Freddie started to die inside. He would have been actually dead, as well…if it hadn't been for Michael saving his life that is.

From then on, the two had been inseparable; to take one away from the other would cause both to lose functionality. Michael had trained Freddie into an above average athlete, and gotten him into all forms of music, not just the classical guitar that Marissa had insisted upon.

Still…Michael's friendship had come at a price. Not one demanded from Freddie by his friend; one that was demanded from a higher, far crueler order of being. If there was a god, then he had made the price of Michael's friendship be the innocence that Freddie had retained from blood stained childhood…

Freddie shut his eyes and tried not to think about those days. Mike had taught him self-control to go along with his new physical aptitude, and the process he went through in his mind to keep the memories at bay was effective. Most of the time.

This time, riding down the elevator with his three dearest compatriots, the wall only let a few bad memories creep in, only in fragments. Freddie grimaced and felt his face grow pale as he tightened his eyelids, bracing for-

_Freddie lay in his small bed, with the Galaxy Wars sheets that he loved so much._

_Freddie shut his eyes tighter as the memory from when he was three came flooding back_

_He hears shouting. Crying. Pounding._

_He knew it was daddy shouting, and he knew it was mommy crying, but the pounding was something he didn't know…it felt like it was in his chest. Trying to smash its way out of his little body._

_A massive crash from the other room, and mommy was saying something…begging daddy…Freddie heard stomping coming towards his room as he sat up, the pounding in his chest becoming painful. The door to his room burst open, and light filled in around a figure, which was standing in the doorway with fists clenched…._

"Freddie."

Michael's voice rang like a bell in a church, and shook the memory to pieces. Freddie opened his eyes to the sight of Sam and Carly staring at him, confusion written across their faces as they stared at Freddie. He could feel how pale he was, and he could feel beads of sweat dripping down his face and neck.

Shit. This little levee break in his defensive wall had been a worse than he had thought. He didn't even know what had brought about this little lapse into his own macabre past.

"Are you ok?" Carly asked, sounding frightened. Sam remained silent; instead, she chose to simply stare at his normally handsome face. He looked like shit…pale as a ghost, sweat beading his forehead and a frightened, weak expression stretched his skin taught. And it had only been less than a few seconds of reminiscing…

Freddie opened his mouth to make an explanation, but Mike, thinking fast, answered the question for him. "It's the elevator," he said in a casual, explanatory voice. "Yeah," Freddie followed up, without missing a beat, "I hate these things, especially when they're crowded. Big metal death boxes they are..."

It wasn't a lie, exactly; Freddie much preferred the freedom of using the stairs than being stuck in a small metal coffin. Michael did as well…which is probably how he managed to think up an excuse so quickly.

Carly nodded her head, contented with that answer. She hugged him tightly and said, "We'll be down in a minute, Fred. It's ok."

Freddie hugged her back, grateful for the reassuring words…even if they were to ease an invented malady of his mind. Sam, on the other hand, seemed to know that the little lie was just that. She frowned as Carly released Freddie from her embrace.

"You're afraid of elevators?" The blonde asked, sounding incredulous as she folded her arms. "Dude, you were just playing with butterfly knives less than five minutes ago. How can you be afraid of elevators?"

Freddie and Michael glanced at each other with imperceptible speed, before deciding to unleash the ultimate weapon.

"Hey Sam," Michael said, in a flirtatious tone that dripped with suggestion. Sam blinked in shock at his tone, and began to edge away from him as Freddie continued in the same tone, "How about you try something, hon?"

She stopped dead in her tracks as Freddie began to advance upon her. She raised an eyebrow, almost challengingly, as she repeated the final word in an amused tone.

"'Hon'? Since when did I ever allow you to-"

She stopped mid sentence as Freddie wrapped his arms around her waist. His face was mere inches from her, a big, flirty grin flitting across his lips. The girl felt her breath catch in her throat.

Freddie took in a deep breath, looking deep into her eyes, and uttered only two words. "Fuck yourself."

The elevator door opened, so Freddie released his grip on her with a devious smile…but not before giving her ass a quick, firm squeeze. Freddie turned deftly and walked out with Michael, Carly walking out backwards; her hand covering her mouth as she doubled over with laughter. Her blonde counterpart stood stock still.

Sam was stunned. Mortified. She felt violated, and enraged. Just because she loved him didn't give him the right to go feeling her up like that, especially since he had no idea how she felt about him. So Sam seethed for a few seconds longer, feeling a little dirty…but more than a little impressed by Fredward's seemingly boundless new courage. Is this what Freddie had been the entire time she had known him, or was this just a product of his close proximity to Michael? Maybe both?

"Hey!" Freddie called to them. "Are you coming or what?"

Sam began to take off after him, bolting by Carly and passing by Lewbert, who was cowering in fear at the sight of the two men who had just passed through together. She burst out of the lobby, but Freddie was already smirking at her from the other side of the glass of the car they were going to be taking. It was a beaten up Chevy SUV, a dull shade of blue paint hidden beneath the snow.

She glared at him as she pulled open the door, sitting directly behind him. Michael was in the driver's seat, and he began to cackle evilly as Sam promptly began attempting to yank out Freddie's hair.

"ARRRRRRGH!"

"You…little…shit," Sam hissed at him. At that point, Carly stepped into the car, taking the seat next to Sam in the back.

"I'M SORRY!" Freddie moaned, feeling like his head was about to get yanked. She was small, sure…but Samantha Puckett was one of the most freakishly tough girls in the world, no matter how tiny her stature was.

The scene continued for another minute before Michael intervened. "Alright," he said loudly, "Let's get this show on the road. No more horsing around, everyone get your seatbelts on."

Sam let Freddie's hair go, grumbling an unheard response. He caressed his head with care as he put on his seatbelt. The SUV rumbled to life, making a sound like a dying beast of war, and they took off at last. Freddie reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPod, plugging it in to the car's stereo system. The intro to a Beatles song popped on; Carly started to bob her head up and down, singing along with Paul McCartney as he told the story of Jo Jo and Loretta.

They jammed along until the end before Sam let her curiosity get the best of her. "So, Freddie," she said with an edgy tone, "You gonna tell us about the mystery girl that your mother heard in your room last night?"

Carly tensed up next to Sam, and Michael turned to look at his counterpart with an inquiring smile on lips. Freddie tensed and paled, before saying curtly, "None of anyone's business, thank you very much."

Sam frowned, feeling a little rejected. Michael scoffed at him.

"You shittin' me, Benson? Give me the deets, man! Stop being such an ass, I always tell you about my hook-ups."

Freddie snapped back at him, "It wasn't a god damn hook-up! Just…a girl came in without my permission, and we had a little fight. Nothing. Happened."

"Was it…someone I know?"

Shit. Mike had shot him a glance that made it obvious he had already (correctly) assumed that it had been Jessica who was with Freddie last night.

The brunette male grunted, garnering strange looks from the girls and causing a lingering, dark expression to dominate Michael's face. They drove up to the Groovy Smoothie; Mike kept driving, obviously intending to interrogate Freddie some more.

"It was her," he demanded/stated in a cold, fierce voice that made Carly shiver.

"Yes," Fredward admitted softly. Michael scoffed and said, "Should have figured you'd go back to that cheating piece of scum…"

"She broke in, alright!"

"Yeah, sure," was the icy response that Freddie's excuse had garnered. Mike had always been able to tell when Freddie was lying to him. He could see right through any bullshit that people around him pushed in his direction. He always had trouble telling when Freddie was telling the truth, however.

Luckily, Freddie had a way around that: lie.

"Fine. I let her in so she could give me head again," he said with a hard, sullen look to his friend. Michael's expression relaxed, as he said, "You just lied…which means I owe you an apology for not believing you before."

Carly, however, spoke up in a disgusted tone of voice. "You let someone you despise give you a blow job?"

"I wasn't in my right mind," Freddie said defensively, realizing he had said one word he shouldn't have at the end of his lie to Michael. That word being again.

"You can say that again," Sam muttered, sounding every bit as sickened as Carly. Freddie winced at the condemnation from his two closest female friends, and turned up the volume on the stereo system. They had put it low during the interrogation, and a song or two had passed by unheard. Right now, it was on Outshined; ironically, at the part where Chris Cornell gives the famous line, "Lookin' California; but feelin' Minnesota."

They drove around for a few more minutes before finally getting back to the Groovy Smoothie. The rest of the trip had been silent, besides the snarling voice of Chris and the crunching guitar of Kim Thayill.

They pulled into the parking lot as it ended; Mike cut the power before another song could start up. The four left the car and walked inside the smoothie shop.

The awkwardness of the silence that surrounded them all was suffocating; it made Freddie almost afraid to speak at all. So he was grateful that, as they took their seats in the nearly full food and drink shop, Sam grinned at him.

"Well, Benson," she said, sounding like she wanted to clear the air of everything said in the car, "I must say, I respect you a whole lot more, now that I see that you aren't just a great big whining momma's boy with a creepy crush on my best friend anymore!"

Freddie actually felt the awkward air around them blow away, as if Sam's voice were a great gust of wind; he smiled at her, a big toothy grin. "Really?" he said, enthusiasm lighting up his face.

"Yup," the blonde replied, but Freddie grew weary at the evil look on her face. "I now raise you from the title of worthless nub, to the esteemed rank of valuable nub. Congratulations! It's a huge step, which I never thought you'd achieve!"

Freddie rolled his eyes at her teasing, and Carly and Mike laughed at them. The mood was now light-hearted and jovial once more as T-Bo finally made his way to them, holding a stick with impaled muffins. "Blueberry muffins on a stick," he offered with gusto.

Carly and Sam began to laugh at him as Freddie continued smirking at Sam. Mike shook his head in exasperation, and then exclaimed, in an obviously forced strident voice, "T-Bo, are you gay? You have such an odd love for sticks."

T-Bo flushed as the other patrons of the smoothie joint chuckled heartily at Michael's taunt; he beat a hasty retreat, not wishing to receive anymore of Michael's sharp tongue lashings.

"I'll go get the smoothies," Freddie volunteered, as T-Bo made his escape. "What would you like all like?"

"Medium blueberry, please" Carly said politely, smiling as she handed Fredward a five. "I'll take the same, except large," Mike followed up, also handing him a five. Sam smirked at her friend, and said, "My usual, Freddo. Don't muss up momma's order, dork. She'll have to give you a good beating."

She offered no money, of course. Freddie smiled and rolled his eyes at her threat, before walking over to the bar.

Michael glanced at Sam and decided it was about time to give her a little taste of his verbal lashing. "That sounded a little suggestive, Sam. Was there a double meaning there?"

Sam frowned, not really sure what he was talking about, until Mike gave an impression of her voice. "'My usual, Freddo. Don't muss up momma's order, dork. She'll have to give you a good beating.'"

Sam choked on air as she flushed, spluttering at his evil grin. Carly giggled at Sam's reaction, and boldly claimed, in a most suggestive tone, "Ohhh, Sam. Momma sounds like she's dying for Fred to be a naughty boy!"

Michael laughed heartily as Sam turned to face Carly slowly. The brunette quailed under the withering glare of her friend, who then focused upon Michael once more. He smiled his impertinent grin, obviously impervious to her death glare.

"How about momma gives you a black eye?"

"I'd love to see momma try! My pops was Army Special Forces, and he passed that work ethic on to me. Momma wants to wrangle with Rambo Junior, I'm ready to go!"

He gave her a playful wink. Carly spoke up, sounding a little surprised. "Your dad is a Green Beret?"

"WAS," Michael said, and his masculine veneer dropped for a moment to show a quieter, far more reflective side. "Lieutenant Danny Youngblood was killed in action about five years ago, at the ripe old age of twenty-nine."

Carly gasped and covered her mouth, looking remorseful. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up," she said softly. Michael shrugged, and a proud smile lit up his features.

"You didn't bring it up; I did when I decided to brag like a tool. Plus, he died saving the lives of his squad," he said softly. "My father was the greatest damn man to have walked this rock of a planet, and he died how he lived; a hero. Rest in peace, pops."

He made a cross on his face. Sam stared at him, not sure what she was supposed to say. Thankfully, he didn't look offended that she remained silent, and he continued to talk to Carly about some of the things his dad had bequeathed him when he had passed. The blonde sighed, feeling a little unnoticed, when Freddie sauntered back to the table. Sam was too busy smiling at Freddie, who had finally come back with the smoothies, to notice that Carly and Michael were giggling at her silly grinning. Freddie handed the drinks out and took a seat next to her, returning the smile with a small wink.

Sam blushed slightly and slapped him lightly, just as the door to the smoothie place opened up. Freddie tensed up, and his face darkened with astonishing rapidity. Michael quickly looked at the door as well. A man was walking in, dragging a child in by the hand. He had an angry, intoxicated expression, his wife beater and dirty jeans giving his bald headed and tattooed visage a particularly distasteful air of vagrancy. The child seemed to be no older than five. His dark hair and darker eyes spoke trepidation that was all too familiar for the two men in their seats.

The girls turned around, and Sam's expression grew stony as well; Carly looked worried, and more than a little frightened.

The child attempted to struggle from the man's grip, and his efforts were rewarded with a swift back hand, the man standing over the now floored child, screaming with rage.

Freddie reacted far too quickly for anyone to stop him, or for them to reach the man before him. The offender turned around at the clatter of Fredward's chair being thrown from underneath him, just in time to catch Fred's shoulder plowing into his chest. Michael wasn't far behind, but there was nothing anyone could do now. The entire smoothie shop was in an uproar now, with everybody trying to bustle up and see the fight. Sam and Carly stood at the inner ring, watching as Freddie and the man wrestled fiercely. Carly was quiet, shock and fear causing her to grip her mouth tightly in both hands; Sam, on the other hand, was yelling Freddie's name, lost in the moment… until he gained the upper hand.

Freddie had turned savage, a look of sheer wrath contorting his face as he started to smash the man's face in with his fist. Sam felt the blood lust drain, and her pallor increased as well. This wasn't a fight anymore; the man was already incapable of fighting back. She could see Freddie screaming, and began to recognize what he was saying, over the shouting of the crowd.

"SICK. FUCK. SICK. FUCK."

Each word was punctuated with a thud as the man had his face rearranged by Freddie's fist. Sam couldn't take it anymore. She ran over and grabbed Freddie's fist, yelling, "Stop, it Freddie! Please!"

His attack ceased, and his face snapped into a shocked, expression. He looked down at his hands. The knuckles were bloody, and would most certainly be bruised, since in his rage he had punched the man in the forehead several times. He then looked to the broken and battered man beneath him. His nose was broken, his face was already swelling up, and his cuts were starting to bleed profusely, and Freddie felt a little sick as he realized that he hadn't wanted to stop. His eyes then spotted movement to his left, and his heart sank to the lowest point it had been at in a long while.

The boy was lying on the ground, moving as far away as he could. There were tears in his eyes, and he was staring at Freddie in terror.

Fredward attempted to touch the boy soothingly on the head, and reached out slowly making a gentle sound. The child shrank away even more, growing more scared as he approached. Fred recoiled his hand, and bit his lip, hoping to bite back the tears of shame.

He felt a small hand grip his shoulder, and turned to look at who it was.

Sam was staring at him, at a loss for what to say. "Freddie," she managed, "This isn't your fault…you just…"

She bit her lip as well as a tear slipped from Freddie's eye. She helped him up, and they walked out of the crowd. The small mob was not focused on them, choosing instead to ogle the carnage before them. Mike noticed them, and led the terrified, stunned and crying Carly through the twisted mass of blood crazed people to meet the others outside the shop.

Freddie had a one-hundred yard stare, his face hard and emotionless now. Sam was leaning on his shoulder, talking soothingly and rubbing his chest with her right hand. He glanced at them, and spoke out in a hard tone.

"I need some time to think…I'm going for a walk. You three can wait at my house, if you want…my mother won't mind."

He started to walk away, but stopped to look at his right.

Sam's left hand was holding it tightly. He walked up to her, his head bowed in regret. There were tears in her eyes, but of course she didn't cry; she was strong for him. He pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her as close to him as he could, trying to put many an unspoken merit into it, before pulling away from her. He turned away, and walked into the cold, heartless Seattle winter storm.

Alright, so this chapter was really long in coming out for a few reasons, the number one being I don't have access to a computer for about half the year; so, writing is something that I have precious little time for.

**The Beatle's song I used is Get Back, if you are unfamiliar with the genius that is the Fab Four. I don't own the song, of course. Nor do I own the iPod. Apple does. And I don't own them, either. I don't own shit…**

**So, this chapter had a little bit about the pasts of Freddie and Michael. A LOT about their personalities, though. I hope I got the brutality down…and I hope you can all forgive me for making the four chapters that have been actually story plot all be set during, like, an eight hour time period. Most of which was not spoken of, since Freddie and the gang were sleeping. This story is set towards the end of November (I'll decide next chapter exactly what day it is lmao), and is going to take like, a month. So there will be a few days that get skipped over in a cliché and uninventive manner, since I'm not talented at anything, really.**

**If I was, I'd have money and a license by now. Sad face.**


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